Martine's Men
by Bianca Castafarina
Summary: Martine/Haddock/Tintin. Het porn. Straight filth. Under the guise of art consulting, Martine Vandezande brings a piece of Alph-Art to Marlinspike Hall for a 30-day trial. But Tintin and Haddock get a lot more than they've bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**Martine's Men**

I. Haddock

Captain Haddock gazes at me over the counter, and I can't help but wonder if he wants to have sex with me.

Being the object of male desire is still a very new and exotic experience for me. Only now at age 24 do I begin to grasp what That Look means that men give me on a regular basis. What a thrill to comprehend the sexual power women can hold over men!

I've seen him a few times already. Archibald Haddock is becoming a regular visitor at our gallery but has not bought anything so far. He has expressed a particular interest in the letter sculptures of our most prominent artist, Ramo Nash, and says he'd like to buy one but is not sure whether it would blend in with the Empire-style interior of his home.

He's that retired sea captain who lives at Marlinspike Hall, together with his friend Tintin. It's been rumoured that these two are a couple; such gossip is inevitable when you consider how famous they are. But the way he looks at me I'm almost certain he is interested in women as well. And the past few weeks I have fantasized about him in the same way as he has most likely fantasized about me.

„Nash's Alph-Art investigates the nuances of letters through the use of threedimensionality and close-ups which emphasize the mechanical nature of everyday language", I explain, carefully turning the sculpture on the counter. It is pure artspeak, devoid of actual meaning and I have no idea what I am saying, but the gallery owner demands that we speak this language, says that customers expect it.

„Ah... I see." Haddock glances at my breasts just for a second but it does not escape my attention. From a certain age men know how to consciously keep their gaze away from my upper body and look into my eyes instead, but when I wear a tight-fitting blouse as I do today, sometimes their efforts are futile.

I also wear a loose skirt which I know will ride up if I bend over, exposing the pastel-blue cotton panties I'm wearing. I've selected a pair of extra thin ones to make sure that any damp spots are immediately apparent – in fact, I'm certain that I've already created one. My natural everyday fluids combined with a few hours of shameless daydreaming tend to do that.

It appears that I'm wearing black nylons but actually they're high stockings, held in place by a garter belt. This is something I can relate to from my professional experience in the gallery: erotic lingerie works like a painting frame, emphasizing the female features without distracting from them.

„Here, feel it." I caress the smooth cast resin surface of the sculpture, smiling at Haddock. He clears his throat and maybe I'm imagining it but he seems to be blushing just the slightest bit. But he puts a hand on the sculpture, and I still smile as I look at it, imagining how it would feel like on my skin. He's got broad hands, toughened by the salty air and hard work at sea, with a generous covering of black hair. His palm brushes against mine.

He pulls his hand back, chuckling and actually blushing. „Well, Miss Martine... it's a solid piece of work, but I'm not sure it will fit into my home." His voice is a delightful rumble, deep and resonating throughout the room.

I pull out my trump card. „I've talked to our owner and we're offering you the option of a free trial. You can borrow an Alph-Art sculpture of your choice and display it in your home for thirty days at no charge."

.

.

.

Haddock is sold on the idea, and I'm providing the professional consulting service that our gallery offers to selected clients to help them find the best display spot for their new or hopefully soon-to-be acquisition.

He's decided on the letter H, and while I package the sculpture carefully into a cardboard box with plenty of filling material I bend over ever so slightly to direct his gaze to my cleavage.

Half an hour later we're standing in the drawing-room of Marlinspike Hall, and I'm amazed. The interior must be centuries old, and he even has a butler that takes our coats and discreetly disappears as I unpack the sculpture.

My heart is beating wildly and I press my thighs close together in an effort to better feel the moisture in my panties.

„We could show the object to Tintin", I say. An innocuous suggestion designed to find out whether his young friend is currently home at all. While I prefer the seasoned looks of older men I certainly would not push a nubile, eager and horny youth from the edge of my bed either.

„He's gone to the library but will be back soon, I'm sure", Haddock says. „I figured it would be a nice surprise... Miss Martine, what do you think about the sideboard?"

We put the sculpture there and gaze at it, until Haddock decides it might look better on the couch table. The letter casts a reflection on the polished wood, and we admire it from a distance.

„May be if it's turned differently", I think aloud, and walk toward the low couch table, bending my upper body down a great deal further than necessary to handle the object.

My skirt rides up, exposing my panties and the gap of naked thighs between them and my stockings. I am so excited my heart is pounding, and I hope that my panties are damp enough to look translucent.

I turn my head over my shoulder to look at him while remaining in this position, lifting the sculpture a few inches over the table. „Maybe if it were to stand higher. What do you think, Mr Haddock?"

His eyes are wide open as he stares at my bottom, and he opens his mouth to say something but manages only a low „erm..."

Standing back upright I walk toward him until I stand so close to him that our upper bodies almost touch. He's a head taller than me, and I catch a whiff of pipe tobacco. Our gazes lock and my breath rate increases, and I need to inhale to keep my composure. „At this angle – the artwork – what do you think, Mr Haddock?"

He stares at me. Blue eyes glint beneath with long, dark lashes, full like the hair on his head and face; and when he finally speaks his voice is raspy.

„It is... the best angle I've ever seen."

„Maybe you want to..." Improvising has never been my forte and I'm amazed that my mind is still clear enough to come up with innuendo - „...try your own hands at... arranging." I'm looking up at him, my face only inches away from his.

„Martine", he growls, and his blush is now very discernible, „is this... are you..."

I grasp his hand and put it on one of my breasts, pressing it there. „Yes."

He squeezes it and suddenly his mouth is on mine, and I welcome the bold advance of his tongue. To my surprise his beard feels soft despite its bristly appearance; and his lips are dry and hungry on my own, and he tastes deliciously wet and desperate.

„Oh", I moan into the kiss, running my hands up his sweater, feeling his slightly soft middle and firm chest. There's hair in all the right places, he's a _man_ all right, and it drives me dizzy.

_Yes!_ I press my lower body against his. He's hard already, and when he pulls closer, his hands grasping my waist, I let out a little gasp, feeling his thick bulge pressed against my stomach.

I sigh, grinding myself against him. Our mouths separate, moist and breathless, and then his lips are near my ear, making sounds of appreciation, and his hands run up and down along my body – rugged manly hands gently squeezing my breasts, rubbing them through the skimpy fabric of the blouse. My boobs are rather small, they fit perfectly into his hands. I gasp and moan, realizing that the butler could walk in on us at any moment.

But I don't care. I want him now, that handsome older man who I've fantasized about. I'm so tense and wound up, in desperate need of relaxing, and practically melting under his hands, surrendering to his magical touch.

Extra moisture drenches my panties. My legs feel shaky. I need it now, need it right now.

He's grinding that thick hard ridge, still confined in his pants, against me; then reaches down between our bodies with one hand, sliding it into my crotch. His warm palm is cupping the soft, hot flesh of my pussy through the soaked cotton, pressing gently, and I hear him utter a raspy sound of amazement.

„Blistering barnacles, you're wet!" His voice is hoarse. „You need it badly, don't you?"

„Yes", I pant, „yes, yes... please, do me!"

„You know... Tintin could be here at any moment?" He squeezes my pussy, feeling its wetness acutely even with the panty barrier still there, making me dizzy with lust.

„Oh God, yes, please, now!" The possibility of Tintin discovering us incites me further; regardless of that I need it right now, need my insides massaged by the hard pounding movements of a solid cock, need the release that it brings.

Haddock wastes no time roughly pulling my panties aside underneath my skirt, and slides a finger between my wet warm folds, but not quite inside me.

What now – is he teasing me? When I thought I was the one in control?

_Don't fool yourself, Martine, you've lost control long ago!_

And then I'm begging, _please_, fuck me now, I can't take it any longer! My knees turn soft as he fondles and teases me, and when his finger – now slippery from my own juices – flicks over my clitoris, my body twitches in pleasant shock.

„Oh", I gasp, „ah-! oh-!"

„Martine...", he whispers, „let's... over there."

Yes. Right. The floor is not the most comfortable option.

There's a 18th century-style couch in front of that table where the sculpture stands, and we stumble there and I sit down, Captain Haddock standing in front of me so I can open his pants. Finally I see and feel his cock. Hard and eager it pops out of its restraints, and how gorgeous it is! Thick and solid with strong ridges, its head glistening wet with his pre-cum. I wrap my hands around it – they barely enclose its circumference. His balls, too, feel nice and heavy when I fondle them.

And I lean forward to kiss the head of his cock, smearing the clear fluid over my lips and cheeks, and then taking it inside my mouth.

I hear him sigh and groan. Encouraged, I keep sucking, covering his manhood with as much saliva as I can manage. A thick, strong shaft like this is going to need all the lubrication it can get if it's to slide into me comfortably.

Unable to wait any longer I lean back on the sofa, pulling my skirt up and thighs far back so my body is practically folded in half. Soaked panties pulled to the side, my moist slit is gloriously exposed. Its rosy petals open a little, and I slide a finger between them to show him just how wet and wanting I am.

„Please, put it inside now, fuck me now!"

Haddock kneels on the sofa, hoisting one of my legs over his shoulder, and places the tip of his leaking manhood just at my entrance, teasing me by sliding it along my wet labia. I moan, unable to contain my frustrated want.

He's holding back; using his trembling fingers to open my blouse instead, and pushes my bra up to reveal my breasts.

„Martine, thundering typhoons... you are so beautiful." He looks as though he can't believe what he sees, then grabs my breasts and buries his face between them, inhaling, kissing my skin, before diverting his attention to my nipples. They're light pink even when erect, as it is common in the skin color of redheads, and respond to his tickling tongue by standing even stiffer.

But I can tell he's struggling with his self-control, aroused from my female scent and wanton sounds. Maybe he has even smelled my pussy back there in the gallery already!

And finally, _finally_, he thrusts inside me with one slow, sweet glide. I arch my spine up, throw my head back, moaning, relishing the powerful sensation of being so completely filled. He, too, groans again, overwhelmed by the all-enveloping snug heat.

His thrusts are slow at first, then a little faster. Both our wet essences create the most delectable friction, making my nerves tingle, especially so when he hits my G-spot at just the perfect angle. I cry out, curling my fingers and toes, squeezing my insides around him.

„Thundering... typhoons", he pants.

„Yes", I shout, „like that, keep going, yes-!" I put my hands on his shoulders, digging my fingernails inside his muscles.

Each of his thrusts sends magnificent shivers through my body; and I savour the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against my buttocks, and I wonder how much they hold. I hope he'll fill me to the brim with his seed, I want there to be so much that it squirts out of me while he's still inside.

We both pant and moan, and there's a Siamese cat on the floor, staring at us. But I hardly notice, being lost in pleasure as he pounds into me relentlessly.

„Ohhh", I shout, now incapable of coherent thought or speech, simply gasping, panting, shivering. Haddock is going at it faster and harder now, I can tell it's the final spurt. And then he presses inside me deeply, and the sensation of his pulsating cock, as he comes inside me, fills me with amazement and triumph. He comes so hard I can feel it clearly – one, two, three twitching jets, and I squeeze my pelvic floor muscles again as if milking him. I want his cum, all of it!

What a thrill to see a man orgasm, that split second where he's fully lost, surrendering and no longer in control; to see the unique look on his flushed face, and to feel his cock pulsate as he comes.

To my astonishment he's still hard as he slowly pulls back and forth a few more times, and there's an obscene squirting sound as he forcefully drives out his own seed.

That's the moment when we both hear the voices from the doorway.

„Captain?"

„Woof, woof!"


	2. II: Tintin

II. Tintin

Still breathless and holding him tight by the shoulders, I turn my head to the drawing-room door.

Tintin is standing there, and both he and his white dog stare at the scene in front of them. The young reporter's face is deep red, his eyebrows raised high.

„Oh... my", he mutters, staring at us, clearly unable to turn away which makes me suspect he has been standing there for a while now.

There is a pause. Haddock stares at him in turn.

„Oh...", he echoes. He separates from me and with a thud sits down on the couch next to me, covering his face with his hand.

But I smile at Tintin. „Come here..." I say, „get naked."

At first he hesitates, looking around as if he wasn't sure this was truly his home. „Erm... is this, I mean...?"

„Tintin, come here."

A determined frown appears on his heated face. This is the permission Tintin needs. Even a most inquisitive and conscientious reporter will abandon all doubts and questions in such a situation. Tintin no longer thinks, he merely decides, acting on ancient instincts.

His own breathing is audible as he walks toward us, dropping his trenchcoat on the floor. Looking at me wide-eyed he takes it all in, the sight of me on the sofa with spread legs. I'm hot and dripping wet; my pussy is gaping open indecently, oozing the Captain's milky white essence.

Quickly I fling away my blouse and bra as well, and remove my thrashed panties. Tintin, too, undresses in a hurry. The white dog howls when a pair of plus fours lands right atop him, and shuffles out of the room.

Tintin now stands in front of me naked, his erection pointing at me, and he and the Captain glance at each other.

„Blistering barnacles", Haddock murmurs, still exhausted. But then he chuckles, and the look they give each other tells all. They both cannot believe how lucky they are.

„Great snakes", Tintin says, his gaze wanders over Haddock – who is still fully dressed save for his open pants, then he looks at me, kneeling down in front of me. „Let me clean you up", he whispers.

_What?! _I'm shocked. No, I am excited, _so_ excited! Grinning at him while biting my lower lip I keep my legs spread shamelessly, so he can see the rosy petals of my inner labia.

He leans his face forward to gently lick my labia, up and down, and then push his tongue between them. My legs twitch, and I moan. This is good, so intense, so good! He licks up the Captain's seed, savoring every trace of it, and I'm amazed.

But it is nothing compared to the moment his wet tongue flicks over my clitoris. A small jolt like an electric shock flashes through me, it's similar to the stimulation I sometimes give myself but the extra wetness increases the pleasure hundredfold.

Tintin continues licking, slurping, and I squirm with pleasure, panting and breathless. I let out a series of wanton cries and moans. Oh God, oh my God! What is this magic he is doing to me? It tenses and tingles throughout my body, and my muscles and nerves twitch. Soon my thighs and legs move almost uncontrollably – he has to hold them firmly to stay in place – and I'm close to screaming.

How such a small button can generate a pleasure so intense! Tintin continues licking and sucking my clitoris and in response I moan and shiver in delightful agony. The ecstastic shocks are getting stronger, and a delectable tingling builds up in my hands, legs and face. I grasp the sofa with one cramping, tensing hand; the other grips the sweater of Haddock next to me. My head is thrown back, mouth forming an O.

And I come, crying out as heaven washes over me, and there's a second of blackness before my eyes.

My orgasm ebbs away as slowly as it has built up. I lie there, still shaking, heaving and panting hard for several minutes, hardly able to move my tingling, tense face and fingers.

„Oh, Martine", Haddock says. His hand brushes over my body, careful as if touching something fragile.

Tintin looks at me, patient, and just as amazed as I am that he has so easily made me come. Panting, unable to speak – somehow my face has tensed and I can't yet control it – I feel his gentle, cautious fingers sliding between my wet, puffy labia.

Haddock next to me turns to look at his friend. „Tintin", he whispers, „I can't believe... you'd eat my... my... cum!" From a sideways glance I can see he is getting hard again.

Tintin's response is an wicked smile.

Rarely have I ever been so wet before! For a moment that alarms me – did I just pee myself? - but when I look down at my vulva there's just clear wetness, shiny and glistening, and it looks redder and more swollen than before.

Tintin, too, takes in all of that sight. „You're so beautiful", he mutters. „Such a perfect little pussy, it looks just like a flower – can you see it from here? How its petals open up to me?" His breathing is heavy, and I can see the lust in his gaze. „I want you so badly."

I nod hastily. Yes, yes! I want more! I want him to bury his cock deep inside me. „From behind!" Turning around on the sofa I present my round bottom to him, keeping my thighs closed so my pussy looks like a snug nest between them, and it's wet enough, lubed up with my own essences and ready for fucking, to let him enter at once.

Pressing the leaking head of his cock against my twitching entrance, Tintin pushes, and the head slides inside. I gasp, but then he suddenly withdraws. Cool air touches my hot, quivering moist pussy.

Apparently he, too, plans to tease me.

Then he is pressing the tip against my wet lips once more, just gently enough to stimulate, but without thrusting inside.

How can a young guy have so much self-control? I moan with frustration, pushing my ass against his pelvis to signal him to take me already.

Haddock watches with interest as Tintin finally enters me.

It slips effortlessly into my warm pussy-pocket. Tintin groans as his hard cock is sucked into my snug entrance, balls-deep, and I rock back and forth on it, wiggling my round ass I let my body work all the angles of his cock. I moan and breathe aloud, making clear my excitement at how irresistible his manhood feels inside me. „_Ahhh!_"

„Martine... not so fast...!"

What is he waiting for? I can't help myself, I need more of him. Impatient, I move my rear against him, but his firm hands on my hips hold me in check. He starts to move, slow and deliberate, and I whimper as I feel every centimeter of him, a glorious sensation facilitated and at the same time emphasized by my wetness. He even lets his erection pop out of me completely, only to push it back in to open me up all over again. Every time he slips inside I cry out with pleasure, my demanding insides clasping tight around him.

„You're so wet..." Tintin sounds amazed. „It feels incredible."

The Captain, still sitting next to me, has an idea. „Martine, let me sit under you."

He shuffles to sit on the sofa between my knees so I'm straddling his lap, and my breasts dangle over his face. I try to hold and lean onto the sofa's back with my arms as Tintin continues thrusting into me from behind.

There are luscious sounds as the young reporter pounds his rigid erection inside me again and again, and I can feel his balls slapping against my pussy. I moan aloud, everything to let him know how marvelous it feels.

Haddock can't take his gaze from my aroused face with its glossy eyes and open mouth, and he grabs the back of my head and pulls me into a hard kiss, muffling my wanton sounds. His other hand caresses my breasts, fondling and pushing them gently back against my rib cage.

I am totally lost in the sensation of having two guys' hands on me, _four_ gentle but secure hands, as I'm being deliciously fucked at the same time.

Haddock interrupts the kiss and goes a step further, pressing one hand onto my pubic mound. With two fingertips he finds my clitoral hood and gently rubs it, making me twitch and shake.

„Ohh", I cry out, arching my back. I'm still sensitive from my first orgasm, and not sure if I can take another. But I don't hold back, I surrender fully.

„Yes, scream for me", Haddock mutters, whispering close to my ear. „I can feel your juices leak out."

The wetness is just right for him to finger my most responsive area, and I go wild, squirming and moaning under his expert touch and the force of Tintin's cock. The double stimulation is almost too much, and my thighs shake. My hands clamp the sofa so tightly that my knuckles turn white.

„Great... snakes", Tintin pants. He thrusts into me faster, building up more tension. To my surprise his palm hits my bottom, slapping it lightly.

My legs twitch with excitement, my face tingles, and at the same time Haddock's fingers on my clit make my body shiver and shudder, sending me into new heights of pleasure.

Tintin's cock is hitting my G-spot, creating a delectable tension that feels like I need to pee, but of course it's a different kind of release that's near. I'm breathless and my throat is dry from moaning and crying out, but I can't help it. They both notice that I'm close, and continue their rubbing and thrusting, hard and desperate.

My climax hits like a small but potent explosion, and for a second I see nothing while my body's suddenly hypersensitive nerves make me twitch and cramp. My pussy clenches hard, and from somewhere far away I hear Tintin groan. Giving in to the urge to relieve tension, I feel it wash out of me.

The only thing that keeps me from collapsing atop the Captain is his one hand on my waist and his other hand still on my pubic mound. My elbows sag onto his shoulders.

And then I feel Tintin come. He's deep inside me, pulsating hard as several blasts of his seed soak my pussy canal.

I love that sensation! If only I were not exhausted and feeling raw, I would continue thrusting forth and back on his cock, even if that would drive out some of that precious cum. It's a thrill to be claimed like this, and sometimes I clasp my internal muscles on purpose to get my partner to come harder.

„Thundering typhoons", the Captain mutters as he looks onto his dripping wet hand, „you really lost control... is that-?" With an amazed yet suspicious look on his face, he sniffs it.

Tintin, still standing behind me with his cock still lodged deep inside me, lets out a breathless giggle. „That's not pee." He's breathing heavily, all energy drained from his climax, and caresses my sides. „It's... cum. Hers. She came."

Haddock stares at him and I lower my gaze to see his manhood stiffen again. It stands up and twitches, bobbing against his stomach.

„Really?" the Captain asks, with an undertone of _are you kidding me?_ It seems that Haddock has had no idea that women, too, can ejaculate. Then he licks his hand, tasting my clear fluid. „You're right. This is different."

Slowly, Tintin slides out of me with a little _pop_, and all of a sudden I feel strangely empty – except, of course, for the new load of cream that now leaks out of me. I adjust my position on the sofa and put my knees so that they're tightly together, so I can feel more of Tintin's sticky goodness that runs down the insides of my thighs.

But I'm too spent to stay in this position any longer, and lie down on the sofa, my legs resting on the Captain's lap. Tintin occupies an armchair opposite the table, apparently just as worn out as I.

Haddock, in the meanwhile, seems to have gotten an idea. „Hey, lad", he calls to a half asleep Tintin across the couch table, „what you can do, I can do too!"

With that, he grabs my legs under my knees to pull them back, fully exposing my swollen, reddened pussy and dives facedown onto it. His beard tickles, and although I'm feeling too hot and sensitive for more stimulation I'm unwilling to back out. The idea of him cleaning me up is simply too tantalizing.

Indeed, he does a good job, licking and sucking away Tintin's cum. He even pushes his tongue deep between my inner labia, catching every drop and drizzle.

When he is certain to have found it all, he takes a moment to admire his work. I know there's still a lot inside me, but it probably won't ooze out until I've been walking around a bit.

He sits back, leaning against the sofa, and I put my legs over his lap, closing my eyes. The tingling sensation has subsided. I'm tired but blissfully satisfied, and from my core a pleasant warmth radiates through me.

I'm a very lucky girl, and I hope to have those two at my service again soon.

.

.

.

Later, Tintin and Haddock invite me to a nearby café and we eat strawberry cream pie.

Much fun was had by all.

The end.


End file.
